I think I hate my friends

When distance, self-preservation, and soft isolation start to feel easier than showing up.

There were times when I would be late to work because the girls’ GC was just too good to put down. It would start around 7 a.m. Everyone would be getting ready for their day, but had that little time in the morning to log on and give their two pence about the morning hot topic. Was it about a boy? Was it what was trending on Twitter? Was it an imaginary scenario, perhaps? Whatever it was, the girls were present. Voice notes at the ready, memes waiting to be used. And then one day it just stopped. It wasn’t a sudden halt; it was subtle. The chat was less chatty (ironically). The responses seemed less passionate than before. Not everyone was present anymore. And then one day it just stopped. Yes, we’re talking about a group chat, but no we’re not.

There is closeness in proximity. Meaning there needs to be at least one anchor that is pulling you together. Maybe you live right across the street from each other, or your families go to the same church. You met in college and your ambitions are the same. But when there’s no longer that beacon that is funnelling you into each other, there’s an awkward pause and realisation of what do we actually have in common. When that hits, so does the guilt. The friendship that you loved doesn’t feel the same, whether that’s intentional or not; you might end up distancing yourself from them, which leads to the “I have no friends narrative.” But you do have friends; there’s just no longer a sense of community. McMillan and Chavis (1986) say that community is “a feeling that members have of belonging, a feeling that members matter to one another and to the group, and a shared faith that members’ needs will be met through their commitment to be together” .

I find this really interesting because growing up, my secondary school was quite mixed. I loved my friends but at times I felt out of place or insecure. Not because of anyone else, but because I didn’t fit the mould of what a ‘typical black girl’ (and I say that very loosely). There wasn’t a big group of black girls like me in my year group and so I often felt that they got me, but didn’t really get me. Because of that, I was so eager to leave and meet other girls just like me. I believed that the friends I would make would understand me. No need to explain. We’re all the same type of black girl. But in my ignorance, I found that I was wrong and a victim of stereotypes.

I mentioned this because I’m noticing more and more how important finding your community is. Community can be characterised as a shared emotional connection, partly based on history, according to McMillan and Chavis. They also include the quality of interaction and investment among other points. I highlight these three because I think they’re key. Shared experiences really determines a friendship in my opinion. I don’t want to update you on what I did; I want to turn around and say, “Do you remember when that happened to us?”

This also falls into investment, yes, emotionally, but also financially. People don’t want to spend as much anymore to maintain friendships. I completely understand that being in your mid-20s isn’t easy and people are saving. £5 to you might actually feel like £100 to someone else. However, that investment you make can change the trajectory of your friendship for better or for worse.

People are more likely to make those investments and show up for others within already established communities (Neighbours/family/ people from their Church, or the Mosque) rather than for those friendships that are harder to maintain and newer communities. This isn’t just my personal opinion but a common observation I’ve seen among many people.

Now I don’t want to sound selfish. Who you were at 17 is not who you are today (unless of course you’re 17), so if you’re allowed to change and grow, so should your friendships. Speaking from an only girl who grew up with brothers, I had to learn the hard way that your friends cannot be your emotional crutch. People have lives and are allowed to get on with them. But do you know what I really hate? This idea that is pushed online: I can be your friend but not really speak to you, check on you, or do anything with you. Self-discovery and growth are important but whether you like to admit it or not, this isolation comes at a cost of friendships. People will go on a hiatus for three months, returning to a different version of you and act surprised when the energy before isn’t reciprocated. I’m not saying that people are not allowed to do this because that is kind of giving toxic codependency.

However, people like to act as if they don’t owe their friends anything; contrary to popular belief, you kind of do. To the person who’s always at your birthday dinners, the one you bonded with over childhood trauma, the one who’s helped you navigate your dreams. You don’t think you owe that person anything?

In fear of sounding like an aunty, this generation doesn’t really know proper community. Sometimes that does mean sacrifice. Instead of reading your book alone every evening, maybe you could call your friend for a cheeky 20-minute catch-up. It’s okay.

People have become so self-involved and individual that the idea of their friend feeling a little upset they don’t see them as often seems preposterous. I think for me it shows the importance of friendship, and again I’ll say that’s okay. Two truths can exist: you don’t have to be free all the time, life is happening but don’t be mad if I also miss the friendship we had before.

When I’m trying to make it obvious to someone where we are as friends, I won’t message as often. There doesn’t need to be a conversation about it. We reveal our intentions in the way we act.

There’s so much expectation in friendship. Where did that come from?

Personally, I’d like to blame TV and cinema. I grew up watching so many shows about girlhood, sisterhood, and friendship with the expectation that we’ll always come through in the end because that’s just the way it is. But that’s not reality. They romanticise this idea. For some, it might be true but those shows don’t really reflect what growing up actually feels like.

I grew up on Bratz, The Sleepover Club, and The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants etc. I suppose we needed to be shown friendship like that because, growing up, what was the alternative? There wasn’t a counter-narrative to teach us that the sisterhood we idolised might one day feel like a façade.

Maybe friendship isn’t constant communication or identical lives. Maybe it’s about understanding the quiet, even if you don’t love it. But also, it’s okay to want more. It’s okay to grieve the closeness that’s fading. Maybe friendship changes shape more than it disappears. Maybe we just need to talk about what that in-between feels like. The space where nothing’s wrong but something’s missing.

I want to make memories together, but I don’t want you to think I’m clingy because God forbid you miss your friends in this generation. I kid. It’s okay to grieve what you were and to look up and realise you’re not the same anymore. We don’t have to force this dynamic. It’s okay. I don’t think you hate your friend; I don’t think I hate them either. I just think I miss the girls’ GC. Once again, this is not just about the group chat.

Thank you for reading! This is my favourite article to date <3 I put a lot of thought into it. Shout out to my 2 readers :)